standing on the viaduct, watching the traffic going east or west below, and gently lifts a One foot gently opened his arms.
He was walking on the way home with his hands on the shoulder straps of his schoolbag, passing by the black FBI car with his father escorted by him. Back in the big empty house at home, with messy drawers and empty paper bags, the money had already been stolen by a friend who had agreed to leave home together.
He squatted on the side of the road, the sky changed from bright to dark, and a child riding a bicycle sprayed him with a water gun. He grabbed the child's car angrily, did nothing, and let it go again. Continue to wait, the lawn's automatic sprinkler suddenly started spraying water, and finally soaked his white T-shirt.
He sat on a bench in the police station and watched the people next to him being picked up one after another. In the end, he was the only one left. Until Big John appeared, he said, this is my nephew. They go home quietly.
When I was watching a movie, there was heavy rain outside the window, and the convective weather shrouded the afternoon in darkness. Suitable for a person to listen to the story quietly. The story about the Long Island Highway and the growth of a young man.
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